Once Upon a Slytherin
by Cheye13
Summary: Bellatrix Lestrange/Mad-Eye Moody; for a contest.  2212 words


**Disclaimer:** Written awhile ago. The characters aren't mine.

Bellatrix was quite a beautiful young woman when she attended Hogwarts. She had long, black hair that fell in soft curls to her waist. She had dark eyes to match her hair and a slight hourglass frame. She looked healthy and happy, and sometimes seemed to glow.

After she graduated, she began to change. Her hair was unkempt; her face seemed to hollow. Her skin paled and her eyes gained a permanent crazy look. She lost weight; everything about her seemed sharp angles. She seemed to blend into the shadows. She was a different person once she became infatuated with the Dark Lord. At least, that's what he told himself.

He had stayed late at the office – very late – working on paperwork for last week's arrest when Kingsley Shacklebolt relayed an urgent message.

"Moody, we got a call. Diagon Alley. Now."

Alastor Moody grabbed his wand and quickly Apparated into chaos. Spells were flying and evil laughter could be heard, echoing in the nearly deserted Alley. He shot a curse at the closest Death Eater – "Stupefy!" They needed prisoners. These people deserved to rot in Azkaban.

For the next hour, he battled multiple wizards as best he could without seeing their faces. The masks they wore were gruesome, but they didn't distract him. He'd seen them enough.

Finally, the Death Eaters still standing Disapparated, opting for retreat. Moody and the rest of the Aurors checked those unconscious. Some lying in the street were their own men. Five Aurors immediately transported their injured to St. Mungo's. The others checked the Death Eaters.

Moody checked one for a pulse and found it; he removed the mask and found an unfamiliar face. He followed this procedure twice more, finding them unconscious, but alive. On the fourth body, after locating a pulse and pulling of the mask, he froze. The face wasn't as he remembered it, but he recognized it all the same.

On a sunny Saturday, fifteen-year-old Alastor Moody sat near the lake, leaning against a tree and reading his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. A group of Slytherin girls walked by laughing, but he didn't look up. A girl with long, dark hair and a peaches and cream complexion stopped and looked at him. The others looked at her, confused. "Oh, go on. I'll be there soon," she told them. They returned to their conversation and walked on. She sat down next to Alastor.

"Hey," she said.

He looked at her. "Uh… hi."

"So… What are you reading?"

"A text book." He angled the book so she could see the page he was reading.

"Ah," she said.

A short silence followed.

"Hey. You wanna go to Hogsmeade with me next week?"

He was stunned. "What? Why?"

"To have fun!" She jokingly punched him in the arm. He just stared blankly at her. Why on earth would a beautiful Slytherin like her want to go on a date with a Hufflepuff like him?

"Okay, I was just asking," she said as she began to stand.

He grabbed her arm. "Um, sorry. Yeah, I'll go. I could use some fun." He finally smiled and her mirroring expression was stunning.

"Great," she said, then stood and walked toward her friends. He stared after her and a slight breeze threw a few strands of his light red hair into his eyes. He turned back to his book, but couldn't concentrate on the words.

The next week, Alastor began down the road to Hogsmeade. Suddenly, someone was bounding along by his side.

"Hey," she said. He turned to find the same girl – Bellatrix Lestrange – her black, curly hair swinging slightly behind her. He couldn't help but smile at the carelessly happy look on her face.

In their past school years, they'd shared classes, and they knew each other's names – they'd even worked on a Herbology assignment together in their third year. But they rarely saw each other outside of class or even spoke to each other in class. He was still a little shocked at her sudden interest in him.

As they walked toward Hogsmeade, he realized she came very close to his six-foot-one. Her eyes were such a deep color – black – he felt he could fall into them and not come back out. He didn't look directly into her eyes.

When they reached the little village, she linked her arm through his. "So. Where to?"

"Um… How 'bout the Three Broomsticks?" That small sentence was a feat to say with her arm in his. He was shocked that she was so close, but also shocked at his own reaction. They walked toward the already bustling pub and found a tiny table for two. They ordered two butterbeers and the beverages arrived in minutes.

"So, um… How's your drink?"

"Great, thanks. What's your favorite class?"

Thanking Merlin she'd taken over the conversation, he said, "Defense Against the Dark Arts. You?"

"I don't know, I think it's potions." He remembered that from the time they worked together. "There's something about each concoction having its own aroma. And the fact that you can create Liquid Luck, Certain Death, and love with a few magical ingredients…"

"That makes sense." His breath was shallow, as they had to lean close over their small table to be heard over the noise in the pub.

"Why do you like Defense Against the Dark Arts?"

"Um, well… It's fascinating, I guess. The way you hold your wand, the power you feel right before uttering a spell to disable the frightening creature in front of you."

A few moments of silence followed his statement. Suddenly, she closed the small space between them and pressed her lips to his.

It was only a quick kiss, and when she pulled away, she smiled. He was stunned for a few seconds.

"Um, hello? Earth to Alastor?" Her use of his first name snapped him out of his daze and he grinned. There was a crash somewhere to the side, and they both turned toward the commotion.

"It's alright! I've got it, as you were!" Madame Rosemerta called.

They turned back to each other.

"Hey, remember when Professor Needles dropped that pot of spiders for the mandrakes? And then he and some kids started scrambling around trying to gather them up again?"

She giggled at his memory and said, "Oh, yeah. Wasn't that the year we did that project together? Oh, we couldn't help because we were laughing so hard!"

He chuckled along with her. They spent the day reminiscing and simply talking. He found it odd that her kiss had given him control of his speech. They walked back to the castle holding hands as the sun set.

Moody paced in the waiting room at St. Mungo's. He had to see her eyes. He couldn't let her go to Azkaban unless he saw her eyes. The eyes that were so different than he remembered them…

They were in Alastor's deserted dorm room, both of their robes and ties discarded, both of their school shirts completely unbuttoned. She lay on top of him, her mouth pressed hungrily to his. His hands roamed across her stomach, down her hips.

Suddenly an angry sounding knock came from the door. "Oi! Why's it locked!" shouted one of Alastor's roommates.

"Shit," the two on the bed said simultaneously.

"Alohamora!" said the voice at the door and Bellatrix dived under the blankets as Moody stuffed his pillows on top of her.

Sixteen-year-old Dedalus Diggle stormed into the room just as Moody was trying to situate himself so the extra body in his bed wasn't obvious.

"Moody? What'cha doin' with the door locked?"

"Oh! That. Uh… I… wanted some privacy, you know? Can't find much of it around here…" he trailed off, knowing his excuses would only get weaker.

"Right," Diggle said uncertainly. "Well, I just came in for one of my textbooks. I'm trying to catch up on my homework."

He seemed to move excruciatingly slowly as Alastor prayed he wouldn't notice the extra school robe and that Bella could breathe and that his stupid roommate would hurry up…

"You do the Potions essay yet, Moody?"

"Uh, no, sorry," he lied quickly.

"Shame. I was hoping you could help me out."

"I'll, um… I'll take a look at it later, maybe I'd be able to help you then," he told him, attempting to push him out of the room with his mind.

When Diggle finally left, Moody locked the door with a spell and waited a few seconds to make sure no one else would intrude. Then he lifted the pillows off of his girlfriend and she pushed the blankets off. She gasped for air, then her gasps turned to giggles, and soon they were both clutching their stomachs in their laughter. When they could both finally breathe, he kissed her beautiful smile, then stared into her black eyes, no longer afraid of being unable to climb out. He'd love to stay in them forever.

A healing wizard came around the corner and Moody jumped at her. "Are any of the prisoners awake yet?"

"Just one – Rowle," she told him. He sighed, disappointed.

Their seventh year was spent together. The two were nearly inseparable. They shared three classes for most of the year and partnered on four projects – which usually led to more than studying.

They found they had a lot of little things in common. They both had older sisters. Their favorite candy was chocolate frogs. They both loved Halloween.

The physical chemistry was there, too; he loved how her skin felt whenever he brushed against her, and her touch was energizing to him. He loved to run his fingers through her long hair, and she'd often kiss his nose – her favorite feature of his, she'd say.

And her eyes – he could stare into them forever. He doubted she felt the same about his boring blue eyes. Black was so much more of an intriguing color… And they were so animated. All of her emotions were shown plainly in her eyes, if you knew to look for them. Her eyes went straight to his heart. Yes, he had fallen into them, with no chance of escaping and no desire to.

He never heard from her after he graduated. On the platform after their last ride on the Hogwarts Express, they had departed with a kiss, hoping to keep their romance alive in the future. He'd sent two owls to her, and neither earned a response. Hopeful, yet broken-hearted, he tried to put her from his mind. He went through three years of Auror training and became one of the Ministry's elite.

Eight years into his career, ten years in the Order of the Phoenix, a chunk of his nose, a false eye, and a bum leg later, James and Lily Potter were murdered in their home, betrayed by someone close to them. He didn't even know where they lived until they were dead. That night, the Dark Lord Voldemort also perished. And a young boy was marked for life.

Two weeks passed, and his department at the Ministry was called to Stoatshead Hill. Rebellious Death Eaters were going crazy, angered by the loss of their master. He appeared on the scene and began to battle. One Death Eater he turned to paused when they saw his face. They stood still long enough for his enchanted eye to see through their mask. He saw her face.

He could easily see Bellatrix Lestrange through her mask. And he could see her eyes.

They weren't the eyes he remembered. There was a craziness to them that his Bella had never had. They were the same eyes, for sure. None he knew were that deep, or expressive. He could see shock and pain displayed clearly. But that madness… They weren't the eyes he'd fallen in love with. All the same…

He turned to fight another Death Eater just as she turned to one of his colleagues.

Only two Death Eaters were captured that night. They were young, unknown. They were sentenced to life in Azkaban.

The same Healer returned. She held up a hand before he could speak.

"Seven of them are now awake. Rowle, Crouch, Gibbon, Rosier, Lestrange, Travers, and Karkaroff…"

He stopped listening when he heard her name. Muttering a 'Thank you," he slipped down the hallway, quickly finding the room with her name on the door. He eased it open and stepped inside.

"What do you – Oh. It's you."

"Uh, hi." He inwardly kicked himself. He sounded just as literate as he did on their first date. She raised her eyebrows in expectation. _What do you want_ was written plainly in her eyes.

Her eyes. Yes, that madness was there. He breathed a bit easier. "I'm just, uh, making rounds. Checking the – the prisoners, you know."

"Well, I'm bloody fine now. You can move on," she told him as she lowered her gaze. For some reason, he didn't move. He stayed there, leaning against the wall, facing her hospital bed.

Suddenly, she gave a shaky sigh and looked at him. "Why won't you leave?" She whispered. The madness was gone. And his heart broke all over again. The pain in her eyes cut through him like a knife.

He stepped forward and caressed her cheek. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

"I still love you," she said, just as softly. "I will always love you. But I've found my calling." A couple tears rolled down her face, and he brushed them away. "I've found something I believe in. _Someone_ I believe in. And I'll follow him to the end."

He smiled sadly. That was something he'd always loved about her – she stood up for her beliefs. Hell, he loved everything about her. But she was on the wrong side. "Aren't _I_ someone to believe in?"

She simply closed her eyes and more tears fell. He placed his other hand on her face and kissed her forehead. "You were my first love. My only love. And I will always love you." She opened her eyes and he kissed her lips once more. Then he stepped back. "But our beliefs differ now." He placed his hand on the doorknob. "I'm sorry," he said one last time. He stepped into the corridor and closed the door on her tears, their pain, and their past.

**A/N:** So, um, yes. It's long. I'm quite happy with it though. ^_^ I found it very touching...


End file.
